Exuberant health is always, as such, sickness also.

Newness only becomes mere evil in its totalitarian format, where all the tension between individual and society, that once gave rise to the category of the new, is dissipated. Today the appeal to newness, of no matter what kind, provided only that it is archaic enough, has become universal, the omnipresent medium of false mimesis. The decomposition of the subject is consummated in his self-abandonment to an ever-changing sameness.

Love you will find only where you may show yourself weak without provoking strength.

That all men are alike is exactly what society would like to hear. It considers actual or imagined differences as stigmas indicating that not enough has yet been done; that something has still been left outside its machinery, not quite determined by its totality.

Art as a whole is a riddle. Another way of putting this is to say that art expresses something while at the same time hiding it.

Lies are told only to convey to someone that one has no need either of him or his good opinion.

Happiness is obsolete: uneconomic.